


lady, no longer

by knightinbrightfeathers



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Relationships, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 20:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinbrightfeathers/pseuds/knightinbrightfeathers
Summary: The gods live on, and we know them all.





	lady, no longer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr and fixed up for your pleasure. Title is from Sappho.

Persephone pretends to be a good girl for her mother, weaves flowers painfully into her cloud of hair, giggles over her shoulder and walks in groups. She pretends to be a trouble child for her father, stands on the street in her sunglasses and bare feet and picks up strangers. Actually, she only picks up one man. She runs away for months on end and no one notices.

Athena spends her days in libraries and universities and courtrooms, paper and pens, computers and triumphs. She has her pick of cases and wins every one. She takes the ones that pit her against men with neatly combed hair and impeccable suits and shoes that squeak against the marble floors, knows their smell before they even show. She stays away from the cases with scared, scarred little girls, tells herself she could do so much good and shudders in private, in the dark.

Artemis goes the other way, walks down streets, not exactly daring someone to take her on so she can get it over with, but prepared. Her satchel holds pepper spray, which she has used before, and a knife, which she has used more often. She teaches women to aim true and girls to step closer to their attacker because that way the hair pulling hurts less. The shelter she volunteers at is familiar. See here, she carved these initials years ago, A and A.

Hecate pulls cards from her sleeves like a pro and invests in strange companies no one has heard of on the stock market. New investors shake their heads at her, and those who know her buy the same shares and wonder at her success and their failures. The guard at the entrance to the building tips his hat at her. She nods and suggests that he make a different choice than the one he decided on this morning. He doesn’t, and she only glances at his face when it appears in the papers.

Aphrodite hangs on the arms of handsome men and smiles at them, mmm, baby, just like that, and her smile widens as theirs turns nervous. Her dress is perfect, her lipstick, her hair, her breasts. Men would kill for her and she accepts another glass of champagne. Her children are just like her, rich and beautiful but not glaringly powerful. No, the secret is to pull the strings.

Hera watches as her husband sleeps with every starlet and pretty young model he can get his hands on. She stays away from that part of the house but in the mornings goes and sits in front of the young beauties, the boys and girls who blink at her fearfully, and pours herself coffee. Tomorrow whatever her husband promised them will come true, but the next day they will find themselves lost and hated and forgotten. She keeps up the facade of an accomplished loving housewife and sets the peacocks on the staff when they whisper.

Demeter bakes on television with an apron and a smudge of flour on her cheek. At home she tends the garden and wishes her daughter would return. The house echoes, cold and alone. She pretends to swallow the lies Persephone tells on her return and plans the next episode. This time, pomegranates.


End file.
